Brilliant
by Mens dominatus potentia
Summary: "Fantasies were dangerous to indulge in when his every breath was filled with her warm, intoxicating scent. Especially when the scent was that of his best friend standing before him." Will he end up making an irrevocably stupid move, or an absolutely brilliant one? H/Hr oneshot


**Author's Note:**

**To my readers, sorry for the delay with my first story "A Silver Lining". I am currently revising it a lot, re-writing it so that it is from Harry's POV consistently. I promise that I will get the majority of the revised edition up this summer. In the meantime, enjoy this little H/Hr oneshot I wrote just now to get some plot bunnies out of my head. Please read and review!**

"How do I look?" Hermione asked, wide chocolate brown eyes expectantly looking at him in the mirror, waiting for a sign of his approval. He glanced at her reflection, green eyes hooding as his gaze lowered slowly from her unintentionally captivating eyes to the smooth ivory of her exposed neck.

"It's alright," he murmured, resisting the urge to trail his lips down her neck. Meanwhile, he took a step backwards. Fantasies were dangerous to indulge in when his every breath was filled with her warm, intoxicating scent. Especially when the scent was that of his best friend standing before him.

"Alright? Just alright?" Hermione asked incredulously. He could see that she was joking; the right-hand corner of her lips was turned up ever so slightly, indicating her suppressed amusement at his gross understatement. "Are you sure? Do I need to change anything? I mean my hair –"

"Hermione!" he said firmly. She turned around, looking at him curiously. He smiled apologetically and added, "It's more than alright. You look brilliant." _Stunning_, his traitor mind insisted. _Gorgeous. Breath-taking. Divine. To die for._ His heart gave a weird backward thump, and he stumbled backwards for the door. _Must leave before I do something stupid_. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. Smith's jaw will drop, trust me." He wanted to leave before he said something stupid too. Like "I am head-over-heels in love with you," for example, or "Will you be mine instead of that jerk's?"

She smiled at the way he choked on the jerk's unwieldy name. "It's Zack, Harry," she reminded playfully. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Do you love him, Hermione?" he suddenly asked. A shot from out of the blue. Both of them were shocked, Harry flushing and refusing to meet her astonished look.

"Harry!" she exclaimed.

"Hermione, it's a valid question. Do you like the guy or not?"

"He has a name, Harry." He waved his hand, brushing her stipulation aside. She sighed in exasperation, hesitated, then answered,

"Yes, I fancy him a lot. He's good-looking and… and…"_Not much else_, he was tempted to add. He made a move for the door before he blurted out something irrevocably stupid.

"I'll meet you downstairs in a bit, alright?" he asked at the doorway. She nodded, and he headed down to the empty Common Room. Everyone was already at the Yule Feast. Well, almost everyone. He could hear two voices, a deep male tone and a high giggling female one. At the foot of the stairs, he saw Zacharias Smith in very well-cut ebony robes, half-hidden and leaning against the wall in the far corner talking to someone behind a column. Non-verbally casting Notice-Me-Not and Disillusionment charms on himself, he inched closer to the Hufflepuff, eventually spying a giggling Lavender hidden behind the column. They looked close. Too close for comfort.

"So, Lav, fancy going out with me someday?" Smith whispered seductively, as Harry approached them. Lavender blushed and tittered in laughter.

"Maybe, maybe not," she murmured back, leaning in to Smith and fingering his tie. Smith laughed and put his hands around her waist.

"Come on, baby, you can have more fun with me than you can with Ginger," he insisted. Lavender responded by weaving her arms around his neck. "So, baby, taking me up on my offer?" he asked, grinning smugly. She smirked back and pressed her body against his. He whispered something into her ear, upon which she giggled and kissed him on the lips quickly before walking out of the Common Room quickly, almost running over the invisible Harry on her rush out.

As soon as she left the Common Room, Harry quickly counteracted the charms he put on himself, just as Smith was attempting to straighten out his tie.

"Zacharias Smith," Harry drawled slowly.

Smith started in surprise and whirled around. "Harry Potter," the Hufflepuff acknowledged sarcastically, his lips curling up in a barely suppressed sneer. "Why are you still up here? Ginny already tossed you?"

"No, I didn't ask her to go with me to Yule," Harry responded simply, expressionlessly. He continued to eye Smith. "I was helping Hermione to get ready."

"Ah," Smith replied, a little scornfully. "So that's what she's been up to? Talking to you instead of coming to the Slug Club? What a shame, should've invited somebody else if I had known she would spend the entire evening with you."

"Should've known," Harry scoffed. "Eyes on one girl and hands on another. Or should I say, tongue down another?"

"What are you playing at?" Smith retorted angrily, his face flushing but eyes looking at Harry in fear. "What are you playing at?"

"I should ask _you_ that question, Smith," Harry replied coolly. "Should've known you were a player from the start. It's a pity Hermione didn't see that."

"You son of a bitch," Smith spat out. "You conniving son of a bitch! Guess there's a reason you were a hat-stall for Slytherin."

Harry involuntarily clenched his jaw. His next words came out as a hiss. "One, you do not insult my mother. Two, you do not call me a Slytherin."

"You good-for-nothing bastard," Smith roared. "Trying to steal my girlfriend and you dare –" His rant was interrupted by a loud thwack, as Harry's fist collided with Zacharias Smith's face. Smith collapsed against the mantle of the fireplace, hands on his nose beginning to drip with crimson blood already. Harry strode towards Smith's prone body, hauled him up by the collar of his robes, and shoved him hard against the wall.

"You will get out of this Common Room and you will never set foot in it again. You will not tell anyone about what just happened between you and Lavender and between me and you. You will not see Hermione again, and Merlin forbid that Hermione sees you with your tongue down Lavender's throat. Do you understand me?" Smith grimaced and nodded weakly. Harry swung him around till he faced the Common Room door. With a flick of his hand, the portrait swung open, and with a non-verbal Expelliarmus, Zacharias Smith went flying out of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Just as the portrait slammed shut again, there came the patter of footsteps down the staircase. Harry turned around to see Hermione, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked anxiously. "I heard voices and other… noises… and I saw Zack…"

"There was a little…_incident_…but I took care of it," he replied slowly, picking his words with care. When he lifted his eyes up to hers again, he could see the confusion and annoyance in her expression. The corners of his mouth twitched a little in amusement. He knew she hated it when he was being vague. But how was he supposed to tell her what happened without hurting her on this night, of all nights?

"Harry," she said warningly.

He raised his eyebrows sheepishly, then sighed. "Errr look, Hermione, Smith and I had a slight misunderstanding –"

"And you kicked him out of the Common Room? Harry James Potter!" she exclaimed indignantly. She strode up to him irately and placed herself squarely in front of him. "What is it with you and the guys I date? Every single one of them, you have found a way to scare them off. With Terry, it was that snake and your goddamn Parselmouth. With Cormac, it was your utter humiliation of him in Quidditch. Now you send Zack flying out of the Common Room? How am I supposed to –"

"It was a different type of misunderstanding this time!" he bellowed. "A very serious one, in fact! It was his understanding at fault, not mine!"

"What do you mean?" she shouted.

"I _mean_, he has a very serious misunderstanding of the definition of a _relationship_, Hermione! Why do you always date guys who are such…such…utter _jerks_?"

She was livid, he could see that. Face flaming, her wand stabbing him in the face, she forced him to retreat backwards until he was pressed up against the wall, her face inches from his, her wand jabbing his nose.

"What do you want me to do, Harry Potter?" she hissed. "All of the guys I've been seeing are not up to your oh-so-high standard, so what in the name of Merlin do you suggest I do?" As she said those last three words, she jabbed her wand into his nose each time for emphasis. He grimaced, closing his eyes against the onslaught of her wand tip and her vanilla scent, and replied,

"I suggest you find yourself a better boyfriend, `Mione."

"Yes, but _who_, my dear Harry, would you fit your bill of requirements for my boyfriend? I've been rather under the impression that it was _you_ who had problems with the past few guys, not me." He couldn't help but chuckle at her words. Opening his eyes, he recognized the reciprocal glint of amusement hidden under the steely glare she was giving him. Smirking, with a quick movement, he placed his hands on her delicate waist and whirled her around, and pressed her up against the wall, face still inches from hers. He suddenly found himself breathing deeply and heavily, eyes going heavy-lidded in response to her familiar yet enchanting scent, and said as he fought to keep his eyes open,

"Hermione, you want a guy who will love you for who you are, not who he wants you to be – a guy who loves you for your messy curls and obsession with schoolwork and brilliance and wit and generosity of spirit. You want a guy who will wake up at the crack of dawn, hover on his broomstick at your window, and wait in the morning mist just so that he can see you wake up, open the shutters, and give him a wave and a smile. You want a guy who will watch you doing homework the entire night, just to smile at your perplexed expression and frown of concentration, and whom you can smile at and tease for being completely unable to do his own work in the same room as you. In short…you want a guy for whom you are his everything." He swallowed involuntarily at this last sentence. Hermione's gaze had softened, and he felt like he could not hold her glance without giving himself away. He had given away so much already. He hadn't planned on it coming out like this.

"Harry," she whispered softly. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Harry, where on earth am I going to find someone like that?"

It was his chance, his first chance, his only chance, but instead of saying what his mind insisted, he heard himself reply,

"I don't know, Hermione. After all, I am not acquainted with all the eligible guys you know." He felt his heart stop as he saw the hope in her eyes recoil and disappear. He cursed himself with all his might. Why had his Gryffindor courage forsaken him at this critical time?

After a pause, both of them sighed. "Harry…" Hermione started, just as he began, "Hermione…" He stopped himself immediately. "Go on, what were you going to say?"

Hermione looked at him pointedly. "Harry, I know this guy who might fit the bill of what you're looking for. He's smart, kind, and (_here she paused, flushing_)…extremely handsome. And he's a Quidditch player, by Merlin, so he could do all that inane early morning broom flying you were talking about…" She chuckled quietly here, and Harry joined along half-heartedly, heart sinking as he realized that there _was_ another such guy in her life. He had missed his chance, and against this guy, he would have no chance whatsoever. "But," she continued, eyes cast down, expression growing ever so slightly dejected as she went on, "I don't know if he likes me that way. After all, he just treats me like any normal friend does. He's never shown an iota of attraction to me." She sighed again, then looked at Harry straight in the eye.

"Come on, we should go to Slughorn's party before we're terribly late," she whispered sadly. Harry stiffly drew himself back, allowing her to move from the wall towards the portrait hole. As she was just about to open the door, he exclaimed,

"Wait, Hermione!" She turned around, eyebrows lifted, expression curious and still a little sad. "I was…I mean…is it Malfoy?" he stammered, heart wrenching as he yearned to step forward and take her in his arms.

"Malfoy!" Hermione repeated, indignant. She laughed hollowly and turned towards the door again. "No, not Malfoy. That was a pathetic guess. You ought to be very familiar with him; he's in our house."

"Ron?"

"No, Harry." She put her hand on the doorknob. "It's you," she said, so softly that he almost didn't hear it. He couldn't believe it in any case.

"Me?" he exclaimed incredulously. She didn't respond, instead opening the door. With a flick of his hand, the door slammed shut again. Hermione turned around immediately. He was shocked by the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Yes, you," she said, pausing and swallowing. "It's okay, Harry – I know you don't feel the same way about me, I never expected –"

"Hermione!" he insisted. He strode towards her until their faces were inches apart again, and very slowly, he lifted his arm, suddenly heavy like lead, and tentatively traced his finger along her face, stopping as he gently brushed her lips with his finger. "It's been you all along too," he whispered back hesitantly, a grin spreading on his face as he saw her eyes light up and her lips arc upwards in a brilliant smile. And suddenly, his lips were on hers, and her hands were knotted in his hair, causing the skin of his neck to relax under her warm light touch, while his hands encircled her waist and drew her closer to him.

When they broke for air, he was grinning madly without really knowing why. Her hands still around his neck, she laughed at his clearly ridiculous expression and he joined along, just revelling in her proximity, her touch, everything he dreamed of for so long.

"Harry," she said, still giggling.

"What?" he murmured back, eyes gazing into hers, the mirth in her eyes reflected in his.

"You know, we're going to be terribly late for Slughorn's party," she said, laughing. "You could have had better timing for all of this, you know."

"Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly, his mouth curving despite himself into a reluctant grin. "Don't you dare insult my timing!"

"Fine," she conceded, smiling impishly. "But I can reprimand you for one thing: making Zacharias Smith fly out of the Common Room for no good reason."

"Oh, I had a very good reason," he replied, smirking. He pressed her up against the wall, lowering his face to hers, his eyes glinting with amusement. "After all, it ended up being a brilliant move on my part."

"Shut it, Potter," she replied, smirking back, and silenced him with her lips.


End file.
